


Director's Cut: I'm Still Yours

by 3minswriting, trustmeallnight



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Bottom Kang Dongho | Baekho, Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Back Together, M/M, Pining, Sex Toys, alternate universe - pornstars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustmeallnight/pseuds/trustmeallnight
Summary: Introducing PledisHub’s favorite actor... reimagined!Watch as Baekho takes on 4 different flavors in this limited video pack offer! Toys, exploration, fantasy, and love?(Includes Version 1, 2, 3, 4 w/ tax. No physical copy. Download available after purchase.)Buy now for $139.99 and enjoy your favorite boy on your personal screen!
Relationships: Choi Minki | Ren/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Aaron Kwak | Aron, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Everyone, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Comments: 14
Kudos: 42
Collections: Nu'fics x The Parallel





	1. "Dongho, what did you want to be when you grew up?" "Dunno." He remembers but if he says it he knows Jonghyun will laugh at him. Jonghyun laughs at him anyway,"I remember." "You do?" He didn't like how Jonghyun smiles; he loves it. "Of course...princess."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ver. 1/4: Choi Mingi, “Ren”
> 
> “Put Your Toys Away, Young Man”
> 
> $34.99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mins here with the first installment (im nervous poerkgoerdsodk!!) and long-ass notes and dedications in the note section that lbr no one but trustmeallnight ever reads anyway lmfaoooooooo 
> 
> but that's fine bcs this whole thing really, is for you. start to finish, conception to reality, plot to porn, and all the nonsense and the chapter title i wrote in between, you know that this is for you.
> 
> and now that you can finally read it, i hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> for my fellow renbaekists: idk how many of you are out there still but i hope you enjoy it too!

Dongho hadn't always felt like this.

Three years ago, to him porn was something more for his teenage years that only returned to importance when the nights apart from his boyfriend were too much to bear (which, being clingy, was every night to Dongho), and perhaps a source of inspiration for future experimentation when him and Jonghyun finally went All The Way.

In his mind back then, sex was something fun but also special, something to share with the person he loved more than anyone else.

He had loved Jonghyun - more than anyone else.

And Jonghyun had broken up with him.

Everything had changed since then, including Dongho’s perspective on porn. It used to be a means to an end, a mindless indulgence once in a while. 

Now it was just another day at work.

“Baekho! Hey! Can you please? Raise your head! A little? A bit to the left--! No your other left--” The director’s voice is loud over the terrible buzzing that is making it  _ very  _ difficult for Dongho to follow the instructions he’s being given.“--that’s not left either! Ren, can you please move him into position? Jooyeon let’s get camera four in closer, I want them to see every drop of drool down his lips, yes! Like that only- no! Left? Ok. Perfect. Keep going. Ren, you’re perfect, don’t change a thing. Baekho, I need to see more from you! Remember, you can’t let him know how much you like it, you didn’t want to lose. Not `til the end. So give me more reluctance. I need to see it.”

“Yeah, Tiger, you heard Seungkwan.” Ren is right next to him, body draped beautifully over the bed and still fully dressed in his black latex and leather costume. Dongho might have enjoyed the sight more if he could keep his scrunched eyes open wide enough, but with another playful twist of his hand on the handle, Ren instead leaves him gasping for air. “You look like you’re enjoying this too much. Tone it down a little, you’re not meant to be giving in too easily, unless...”

“I’m  _ not _ .” Dongho complains, frowning.

“I’m just  _ saying _ ,” Ren continues like they’re having an easy conversation and the frown on Dongho’s face becomes more of frustrated annoyance at how his friend can switch so easily between personas - ‘Ren’, the purple-haired beauty and one of the best bottoms  _ Pledishub _ ’s channel had to offer, and Mingi, the friend he hangs out with every week, gets coffee with after long days on set, and cuddles when he’s lonely. 

When Dongho had first ventured into the porn industry two and a half years ago, camming had been the initial step. A quick, easy way to make money and fill the void of some kind of romantic attention. He’d been self-conscious at first, wondering if he’d even more than the single viewer with his awkward iphone 5 setup and dodgy background. Just when he’d been caught up in his own thoughts ( _ maybe Jonghyun was right, maybe I’m too inexperienced, maybe I don’t know what I wa- _ ), the sole user viewing his channel left a message in the chat.

**g.u.y.:** wth i cant see anything

**g.u.y.:** why u filming with a potato ???

Half naked and extremely flustered, Dongho had grabbed his phone off the stand to type back a haughty reply. Onscreen, the shaky camera picked up mostly the shadows in the room and the shadow of a beard on Dongho’s chin.

**Baekh05:** wym its an ihpone

**g.u.y.:** hello?? its a fossil. this isnt a hentai no ones gonna pay to see your pixellated dick. 

Dongho had scoffed out loud, forgetting that the microphone was picking up his laughter when he thought about the times he’d teased Jonghyun about his not-well-hidden collection in high school. His face fell once he caught himself. His eyes went back to the words scrolling into his cam chat.

**g.u.y.:** hm ok that was ……..cute??? you should smile more   
  


**Baekh05:** uh thanks? 

**g.u.y.:** and get a new phone omg. and new sheets and an actual curtain, that ones terrible wth where do u even find this is that a sheet??? did u pin a sheet up ?? this is the worst ive ever seen u need helppp

Well, there went any semblance of a boner Dongho had as the stranger continued to nitpick about his setup.

**Baekh05:** if yu hate it so much why are you even here

Biting his lip as the dots appeared on his screen, Dongho waited for the response.

**g.u.y.:** bcs ??? i like seeing hot guys with nice asses

**g.u.y.:** and big dicks

**g.u.y.:** why r u here????

Dongho couldn’t help but laugh as he’d typed his reply.

**Baekh05:** same ig

**g.u.y.:** come check out my channel. ill show u how a pro does it tiger 

**Baekh05:** wa it did you come here just to advertise your channel!!

**g.u.y.:** ;)

_ g.u.y. has left the stream. _

It hadn’t taken more than a couple of minutes for Dongho to cave to his curiosity and follow the other’s trail. What he saw when he got there left him confused - because it was clear with the thousands of followers tipping this gorgeous man onscreen with fluttering round eyes, legs a mile long and bow lips capable of the most sensual moans, that he didn’t need to advertise in a nobody’s channel like Dongho’s. 

Choi Ren was a  _ professional _ . The kind of man, Dongho discovered, who was made to be in front of the camera. The way Ren’s sinuous body made love to the lens with such confidence left Dongho hard, wanting, and desperate for more than just his hand every single time. To the point that he began to wonder if maybe he could be a top, even if every time things had gotten heated between him and Jonghyun he’d found himself assuming the submissive role instinctively, comfortably. 

Ren inspired him to challenge himself.

When his mind was clear and his come spent, Dongho re-watched Ren’s cams to gain an understanding of what it was that made him so successful. How he displayed himself confidently. How he interacted with his subscribers. The lighting, decor, the poses, the sounds. Everything. Dongho needed to learn and took notes, applying them as best he could to his own channel.

The first few subscribers trickled in (most with the worst names imaginable, Dongho thought when he scrolled through, _ seriously who would use something like ‘lemonfishermen’ or ‘optimus’? so dumb) _ , then more and more, until his income left him with enough to move out of his crappy apartment and into a new one. He had excitedly opened his DMs to share the news with his friend, only to find an unread message waiting in his and Ren’s longstanding conversation.

**g.u.y.:** hey tiger wanna fuck tonite ???

Dongho had accepted the invitation with caution. He liked Ren a lot, they were friends. But this was their first time meeting and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to move this fast into a no-strings attached fuck when he was, back then, all about the strings and attachments.

“Oh.” 

“You’re late!” Ren was taller than him, striding over in nothing but a gossamer pastel kimono jacket, smile glimmering white and soft as silk under the lights.

There were a lot of lights. 

And cameras.

And people.

A whole film crew, in fact.

Standing at the apartment door, Dongho’s jaw was somewhere near the floor. With the sight of Ren in front of him, however, his erection was definitely already starting to point towards the ceiling in his jeans.

“R-Ren?”

“My usual guy can’t make it. Come on, go get ready.” Ren took him by the elbow, whisking him into the grasp of stylists while he lectured him on the script.

There had been a moment too - that first time in front of all the cameras, with so many people watching, that Dongho had felt all his recently built up confidence failing. He wasn’t beautiful like Ren, whose blemish-free skin was pouring out of a thin slip of cloth and beckoning for him to worship with his hands and lips and every inch of his cock. 

He wasn’t experienced either. His fingers were trembling when he tried to unbutton his shirt. He fucked up the lines. Dongho’s mind was blank, terrified, and he eagerly followed Ren’s snappy lead without a word of complaint. All of the crew seemed unfazed. The cameras rolled on.

“Yah, you’re meant to be the top!” Ren tugged him in close, insisting on kisses Dongho shakily provided. “Act like one.”

Act. Pretend. Like it felt right. Instead Dongho had knelt paralysed between Ren’s spread thighs, unsure. Palms too sweaty that he didn’t even trust himself to touch him.

_ Maybe Jonghyun was right maybe I _

“Hey..” A single murmur was the spell that transformed the bossy, alluring Ren underneath Dongho to just regular Mingi, his large eyes gentle. His fingers squeezed Dongho’s, guiding him closer to whisper a kiss against Dongho’s lips. “You can do this. It’s just me. I’ll take good care of you.” Pulling back, Mingi smiled and wriggled comfortably against the pillows. “Come on tiger, let’s have some fun.”

With Mingi, Dongho learned that sex could just be fun. On-camera and off-camera, his friend had a way of making him feel at ease and naturally took the lead, guiding him both in the bedroom and through what had now become Dongho’s main career as a pornstar. Thanks to the success of his debut film and his overall appearance, when he signed with  _ Pledishub  _ they insisted he would only be cast in top roles.

It had been his first contract.

“Are you sure you want to agree to that?” Mingi had asked him curiously over his cup of tea. 

Next to him, their colleague and friend Jeonghan was on his phone texting and waiting for his own drink to be delivered by Dongho’s brand new manager.

“The pay’s good. And Cheolie will help me pick the roles.” Dongho replied optimistically. “Do you think I shouldn’t? What’s wrong with it?”

“Not the pay..the role. Are you sure you want to be locked into just topping?” 

Tilting his head to the side, Dongho blinked. “Well it’s what people want to see so...I.. guess I should?” 

Mingi and Jeonghan had shared a look and said nothing.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Mingi said, “Just make sure you’re having fun.”

  
  


\--

  
  


If it had been anyone else co-starring with this film, Dongho would have refused to go ahead with it. The first skim of the script sounded fine - the usual game with the top and bottom making a bet, the bottom loses, and the top teases the bottom until the bottom cries to be dicked down. Dongho was confident he would have the right kind of chemistry with Mingi; they squabble and tease each other all of the time, this wouldn’t be much different. 

It was  _ very  _ different.

“Fuck, your ass isn’t just big, it’s greedy as fuck too.” Ren breathes the words harshly against the inside of Dongho’s knee. His black gloved hand is on the t-bar handle sitting almost flush between Dongho’s spread asscheeks. The soft hums of the vibrations are scarcely audible over Dongho’s laboured whines. 

An hour ago, it had just been Ren’s fingers probing inside him. Careful, well-practiced digits savouring each quiver of Dongho’s body as they bypassed the rings of muscle clenching. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, just like the realisation that Ren wasn’t wearing the wrong costume like Dongho had thought when he’d turned up on set - no, the black latex that inked Ren’s entire slender body in pure sin was meant to be there.

Which meant Dongho was meant to be here, underneath him, laid bare and thick thighs dripping with sweat and his nerves dancing with electricity as each touch left him jolting helpless and desperate for more. Ren hadn’t hidden his excitement either. The moment the script had Dongho stripping down and on his knees, Ren eyes lit up, devouring the sight. He had started the preparation process with fingers, graduating up to the thin, tapered plug that now buzzed and stretched Dongho’s insides more than they had been in years (back when Dongho had experimented on himself, he’d always used his imagination to conjure the image of his significant other, but when he barely lifts his head he sees Mingi smiling at him, and he feels better, it feels as right as it can).

“Such good whore, look at you.” Ren’s eyes flick to the tall mirror beside the bed, slowly dragging back to Dongho’s face to check if he’s obeyed the command. He hasn’t. Ren’s other hand quickly clasps Dongho’s jaw, forcing him to turn, “I said,  _ look. _ ”

“N-no.” Dongho squeezes his eyes shut. “Ahhh!” The bed shakes as Ren sharply angles the handle upwards, the soft tip of the plug grazing Dongho’s prostate and his hips jerk involuntarily, his untouched cock blushing as red as his pinched nipples and parted lips. Warmth crackles over his overheated skin and centres in his core, the edges of a near-orgasm constantly beyond his reach. He pries his eyes open to glare at Ren, only to find the other’s heated gaze pressing him down.

“ _ Baekho _ .” It never mattered when their roles were switched; Dongho knows when he can defy Ren’s direction and when he can’t. So he swallows the temptation to fight back when already he’s straining from the lack of stimulation and reluctantly looks at their reflection.

Two cameras and standing lights are in the background, to be edited out later like Seungkwan’s noisy directions to get the camera in closer. Dongho’s experienced enough that he knows how to tune those out now. Instead he looks where Ren wants him to, and curls his shoulders inwards in an attempt to hide himself. Except there’s nowhere to hide, not with Ren’s hand pressing the plug in deeper and Dongho lets out a wail of pleasure, limbs tensing, legs jolting. They’ve always looked like opposites - Ren, lean and long, soft and pure features and Dongho, voluptuous and solid, handsome and strong - and in their reflection, Dongho can’t help but wonder if any viewers actually wanted to see  _ this _ . A celebrated top with his skin is flushed, body racked with faint bites marks and constant, pathetic whimpers when normally he’d be the one pushing with powerful thrusts, heavily grunting, fucking into a delicious heat. But it feels good, it finally feels so good and Ren is taking him there, pushing him into that strange space where Dongho’s cock is leaking all over his stomach in white strings even without the touch he wants so badly. 

“You’re this broken over a little plug.” Ren teases, “Imagine how good you’d look with my cock in you,” When Dongho moans, Ren sidles up closer, letting him feel the outline of the other’s erection against the back of his raised thigh with a slow thrust. The plug drags in and out with the same timing, driving Dongho insane as he tries to urge Ren to push it in deeper. He craves closeness, anything that will give him release, anything that will make Ren happy. “..so pathetic.”

“Ren I want-” Dongho grits out the words.

“Eyes open when you talk to me, whore.” Ren reminds him of the rules, knuckles gently massaging the strip of sensitive skin beneath Dongho’s balls, making the other buck helplessly.

“-to come I want to come, please-” It wasn’t in the script, but Dongho couldn’t remember any of the lines anyway. The only thing on his mind was the strange pressure building up as Ren toyed with his insides, barely-there kisses taunting Dongho’s skin, and the other’s cock against his thigh as a tease of what he could have, except for some reason he wasn’t allowed and he realises he wants it. Badly. “- _ please-”  _

“Hmm, I don’t know if I should.” Ren glances at the table nearby, the row of still unused toys he had brought in patiently waiting to have their turn. Subtly, he glances to the director, who signals that it’s been an hour already, then nods at the staff to prepare themselves for the final shots. Sighing, Ren mutters, “We still have so much more to go..”

“Mi-” Of the pair, Dongho knows he’s always been the weaker one. If Ren tells him to come, he always does, and if Ren tells him to wait, he doesn’t want to but he will. 

But when he tries to call out for Mingi, he knows he’ll always get what he wants.

In the mirror, Dongho misses the way Mingi’s expression softens, the way his own glows with pleasure as the vibrations embedded deep inside him melt his spine and ooze free as the come leaking down his still untouched cock, muscles twitching, clenching, hand pawing at Mingi’s for something to squeeze other than the plug being jammed into him as he screams his release to the ceiling. 

Dongho will be able to watch it later in the editing room at least, because the cameras catch it all, including their sloppy kiss and loud complaints Mingi has when they wrap up that he’s still dying in this hot suit and no one’s helping him with  _ his  _ arousal.

  
  


That evening when they’re chilling on the couch at Mingi’s place (Dongho lies on his side, the pain in his ass already settling in despite Mingi and Jeonghan saying he’s being dramatic, ‘ _ but I’m not used to it like you guys are, I don’t need to be ever’  _ he tries to defend himself, unsure what it means when the other two share knowing smirks) Mingi asks him slyly if he had fun today.

Dongho thinks about it. How it felt, how different the visuals were when they’d been together this time and the payback of teasing Mingi in the backroom with a messy blowjob once they’d peeled him out of his skintight costume. It had been new. He knew he’d be safe with Mingi, and they always had a good time together. 

It was really just another day at work.

“Yeah,” Dongho smiles, amber eyes finding Mingi’s. “It was fun. Can’t believe they messed up the casting though and gave us the wrong scripts..” As he thinks about it more, he begins to pout. “I hope the person who fucked up didn’t get in trouble...”

There’s no cameras this time, nothing of the sort to capture Mingi’s withheld grin when Dongho misses it because his gaze is attracted to the flashing screen of the television.

“Don’t worry, Dongho,” Mingi says, patting Dongho’s dark hair fondly. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  
  


\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so yeah ok renbaek's done w/e but you dont understand ppl omg im so excited to read the next chap ok im ergoijergoiajergoie i've been waITINGggg f.o.r.e.v.e.r to see it this so byE


	2. How do you say I'm yours?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ver. 2/4: Kwak Aaron, "Aron"
> 
> "A Foreign Affair"
> 
> $34.99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it me, trustmeallnight aka tman wow it works
> 
> anyway yeah baekron pornstars baekron fucking haaaa no plot here just two writers trying to push a very valid agenda with this au

“Baekho.”

Dongho looks up from his phone as Seungcheol approaches him. There’s papers in the man’s hands, and he passes it to Dongho before sitting down on the sofa. Dongho raises an eyebrow as Seungcheol stares at him expectedly. 

“What?”

Seungcheol sighs before gesturing to the pile of papers in his hands.

“Read it.”

Dongho looks down at the first page, and now he’s _really_ confused as the face of a wide-eyed, puppyish man looks back at him. 

_Kwak Aaron, Age: 27, Gender: Male, Place of Birth: Los Angeles, California, United States of America._

“Did you just schedule me for another shoot, Cheol-ah?” Dongho groans as he places the stack onto his desk. He rubs at his arm before leaning back onto the headrest of his chair. “My junk is falling off at this rate.”

Seungcheol coughs from his place on the couch. 

“That won’t be a problem. Aron-ssi here tops,” Seungcheol says.

“ _What_ ?” Dongho whirls around in his seat, meets a sheepish looking Seungcheol that looks anywhere _but_ his eyes. “Cheol, what--”

“Look,” Seungcheol cuts in, “your shoot with Ren did _great_. The people loved it, the sales on that thing even exceeded Jeonghan’s, and he makes the company’s profit.” His manager laughs before picking at the peeling layer of the couch. “I just… happened to go along with Woozi’s suggestion that you should shoot more submissive videos.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me? _Again?”_ Dongho spits as he picks up the first page again. It really is true.

_Preference: Top, Dominant._

“It’s a good deal, Baek,” Seungcheol says with a whiny voice. Dongho’s tempted to roll his eyes and tell Seungcheol to shoot for him with the way his manager’s bottom lip juts out irritatingly. 

“You don’t even do shit and you get paid, so don’t tell me what a good deal is,” Dongho replies as he roams his eyes down Aaron’s application. “Wait, Seungcheol--”

“ _Please_ , Baekho-yah,” Seungcheok cries in his seat as Dongho turns to him angrily.

“He doesn’t even speak Korean,” he hisses to the shrinking manager on the couch.

Seungcheol pipes up again, regaining a little strength under the absolutely withering look his actor gives him, “Actually, he can understand a lot, and his speech isn’t even that bad, I promise.”

“No.”

“Look, I didn’t want to tell you this, but--”

“Seungcheol, _no_ , I’m _not_ about to let a foreign man anywhere above me, fuck, or even _near_ me.”

“I already took the deal. Woozi told me to get your relationship together in three days for the shoot.”

Seungcheol winces.

“Are you--”

“I _promise_ ,” his manager pleads, “I promise it’ll turn out well, Baekho-yah.” 

“And if it doesn’t?”

Seungcheol thinks, lips jutting out for the fourth time, and says, “Then I’ll stop for the rest of my life.”

There’s a long suffering silence between them when Dongho stares at Seungcheol, whose wider eyes do a better job at resisting his glare. He knows it’s a bad idea. He’s inexperienced, uncomfortable, doesn’t even have the right image for the shoot, but Seungcheol’s eyes begin to twinkle, however that’s possible, and maybe he loses himself.

Dongho nods, a dip of his chin that barely moves his head, although Seungcheol catches it anyway. 

“Thank you so much, Baekho,” the manager squeaks as he runs forward to lean his chin on top of Dongho’s shoulder. “I’ll tell Aron hyung right away.”

* * *

Usually, when the doorbell rings and echoes inside his house, there’s no reaction. There shouldn’t be, anyway, but today was different. 

The three note chime of the bell startles him out of the mindless television watching, and the blanket is thrown onto the floor as he hurries to open the door.

Standing right outside the door, feet placed perfectly right next to each other, is a small statured, short man with a natural black buzz cut. Their eyes meet when Dongho opens the door, and both are quick to stammer and bow.

“Aron,” Dongho greets before his eyes widen, “ah, hyung, welcome.”

He ushers in the foreigner who continues to bow even as he toes off his sneakers. His hand lingers on the doorknob as it clicks silently, and he clutches it as if it’s his last lifeline. The knob turns slippery under his grip until he’s forced to let go and turn back around.

Aaron, who still hasn’t said a word despite the greeting, looks around in sweeping motions at the tiny living room. Plain beige walls surround a simple leather couch, a low table, and a 32” television. A laundry rack is planted right in front of the open sliding doors. Dongho realises, with increasing shame, that his underwear is hung over various racks, and that Aaron is definitely eyeing them with the occasional peek.

“Right,” Dongho says as he rushes out to cover the laundry rack with a blanket stolen from the couch, “so.” He shifts from foot to foot when Aaron walks up to him, careful steps that don’t make a single creak in the floor despite Dongho’s thundering across the hardwood.

“ _We’ll start?_ ” Aaron asks in English, and while Dongho can’t remember the last time he was faced with the bullets of sweat rolling down his neck staring down at the quiz on his desk, he at least understands the simple words.

Faced with Aaron’s wide eyes peering into his, Dongho’s shoulders collapse against the struggle they held hiding his drying underwear. His eyes slide down to his feet shuffling inwards, toes rubbing against each other, and he carefully nods.

A hand covers the one that holds onto his own shirt, and he looks up. They haven’t said more than two handfuls of words, and yet Aaron’s face softens into a light expression, softened eyebrows and the upturned corners of his lips. Dongho’s heart roars in his ears as a thumb strokes the back of his trembling hand.

“Bed?” Aaron softly asks. 

Dongho breathes in. He lets it out through a harsh blow. Even when his legs almost fall from how weak he feels, or maybe it’s the fear dragging his feet and a curious foreigner behind him, he leads his new coworker to his untidy bedroom.

_Damn you, Seungcheol._

  
  


“ _Okay?_ ”

Dongho scrunches his eyes shut before the moisture lining his eyes can look up even more. The short finger inside him wiggles experimentally, but all it does is remind him of the sting that follows with every curve and bend of Aaron’s finger. 

Despite his tightly gritted teeth forcing his jaw to harden, Dongho bites out a quick, “ _Okay_.” It seems to satisfy the foreigner before he quickly withdraws the lone finger before straight up plunging in two.

“Oh, fuck,” Dongho groans out as his chest feels like it’s being punched straight down into the bed, “what the _fuck_ , hyung.”

His hips react immediately as the burn settles into a constant, and they try to lift off of the man’s fingers. Despite the concern in the downward arch of Aaron’s eyebrows, his hand denies Dongho’s escape by forcing his hips down into the mattress. The fingers stuck in his ass screw in circles and bend in whatever direction, as if Aaron somehow knows the key to figuring out how to stop the pain.

“Fucking let me go, for fuck’s sake,” Dongho whines as his hands weakly push at Aaron’s shoulders, the foreigners thin build refusing to move even with the small punches thrown at his chest after pushing is pointless.

“ _What?_ _Doesn’t it feel good?_ ”

There’s an urge to roll his eyes as Aaron speaks in the tongue Dongho can’t understand for his life, but the motion stays stuck behind his eyelids as Aaron’s fingers randomly crook onto something that makes the pain more tolerable.

“Oh—“ 

Dongho’s hips try to lift up against the strong hand caging his waist in, but it’s once again meaningless when Aaron doubles down on his weight. 

“ _Good?_ Good, right?”

Aaron pulls out slowly, the slick sound of excessive lube clear to both of their ears, before pushing back in with warm fingers and settling on the spot that pricked at Dongho’s skin so nicely before.

“Good, yeah, really good, I think,” Dongho pants as the fingers circle around in tiny strokes, setting his nerves even more ablaze. His skin feels tighter against his body, and his ass doesn’t light with the fire he despised anymore. It’s the kind of fire that soothes with a warm pleasure he’s never felt before, not even when he was usually buried in the tightest bodies.

The room previously filled with Dongho’s angry swearing and Aaron’s nonsensical English now holds tiny sighs of bliss and the scratching sound of skin against sheets as Dongho attempts to rock his hips up and down. 

His cock, previously soft and lying weakly, twitches irregularly as Aaron strokes him from the inside. The foreigner eyes it with curiosity, watches as it grows to its full length and starts spewing precome over the head and onto Dongho’s skin. 

Before Dongho can creep a hand down towards his stomach, before his fingers can even think of slipping into the slippery pool of liquid, Aaron’s fingers come up to wrap themselves around his cock. Dongho jerks then, an aborted movement that both thrusts himself into Aaron’s loose fist and has the man’s fingers press hard against his walls. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he draws out, even hissing through clenched teeth when he’s stuck between two hands. The hands previously wanting to touch himself retract and instead grabs onto the pillow next to his hand. The fabric bunches up tightly in his grip, and he’s now afraid of ripping it when he catches just how white his knuckles look against the gray pillow.

The way Aaron strokes him is decent at best. The man’s fingers wrap too loose around his girth, the calluses on his palm scratch dangerously against his sensitive skin, and the nervousness he can feel oozing out of Aaron’s trembling hands don’t compare to what he would call a great time. Dongho’s well aware and well experienced in inexperience, but he realizes, as he still tries to buck up into an unpracticed hand, he’s basically hand to hand with Aaron. The way Aaron treats his body is with a curious touch and unknowing eyes, and Dongho- Dongho reacts with his own amateur squeaks and aborted twitches. 

God, he’s become the virgins he used to deflower. 

The involuntary arch of his back as Aaron’s thin fingers slide into him at a near constant pace, how he bucks down towards pointed fingers instead of finding relief in a warm fist, the way his thighs continue parting for Aaron to get closer, it’s the things he always witnessed as he laid a pretty boy under him. 

Pretty _bottoms_.

So, as his wide shoulders heave up and down on his sheets, and his thighs squeeze the life out of Aaron’s waist, he realizes it’s clear he’s totally not pretty. And his PledisHub profile page, the one that advertises him as “PledisHub’s most sought after actor! Watch as his huge dick stretches even the tiniest of sexy boys!” makes it certain he probably shouldn’t be trembling so blatantly under some man’s arms.

_“You’re so pretty,”_ Aaron says as he slows down his pace, his fingers lingering in warmth and slowly stroking shallowly. His knuckles widen Dongho just a bit more, and Dongho clamps his mouth shut as the sting that was almost out of sight returns.

From a tight jaw, Dongho echoes the word, _“Pretty?”_ before throwing his head back as fingers finally dislodge from his hole. He licks sweat-slick lips before pulling the foreigner’s shoulders forward and whispering into his ear, “Pretty.”

Aaron shivers in his arms, even when his own bare chest shares heat with Dongho’s bigger frame, and clammers up to his palms. 

He nods, saying, “Pretty,” and whines shakily as his hips adjust and the tip of his flushed cock presses against Dongho’s wet, soft hole. 

The tip catches just barely onto the first wall of muscle, but Dongho startles and he bucks away from the sensation. His heart hammers so loudly he hears it in his ears, and there is no way he was anywhere near ready for Aaron to fuck him. Even though the smooth sensation of a firm, unforgiving cock snug against his skin makes his own length twitch and drool, his limbs freeze up. 

A lump barely shoves down his throat when he swallows, and he shyly shakes his head. At this, the foreigner loses his wide eyes and settles down with weightless shoulders. Instead of the scary weight of a real cock pressing against his entrance, the base of Aaron’s cock, throbbing needily against the sensitive skin of his hole, nestles between his cheeks.

“Okay?” Aaron asks with a tilt of his head. Curious fingers come up to brush a stray piece of hair away from his forehead. His heart thundering in his chest at the sudden action, Dongho stares up at the man with unblinking, open eyes. He slowly nods behind Aaron’s fingers.

“Okay.”

The first slide of Aaron’s length against his stretched skin is different. While it’s not the fullness of smooth, bare fingers inside him, he’s still sensitive enough that an upwards stroke causes Dongho to moan in a tiny whisper. His heels come up around Aaron’s waist and pulls forward, and the satisfying press of Aaron’s cock deepens as the older man slides down.

His own body is hot, dripping with sweat even, but Aaron rivals him. The older man drops onto his chest with a low grunt and pants hot breaths onto his cheek. The hand that grips Dongho’s dripping cock is just as scorching hot as his blood feels, thrumming in his veins. The kiss that envelops Dongho’s mouth and leaves him wetly sucking at a plump lip fires up a storm in his stomach.

Aaron grunts in a series of short sounds as he rocks between warm, wet cheeks. The bare slide of the foreigner’s skin feels so right between his thighs, so pleasurable and nice that Dongho might just lose his mind from the mere act of rutting.

“Pretty,” Aaron rasps again, “Dongho pretty, so pretty.” 

Dongho maneuvers Aaron’s mouth to his lips again, and he slips his tongue into the addictive warmth that is Kwak Aaron. His hands move everywhere down the older man’s body, smoothing over a small set of shoulders, raking nails down a toned back, pressing against a flexing ass to encourage the constant thrusts of a cock kissing his hole.

With a heaving gasp, Dongho pulls away from greedy lips and helplessly sobs as Aaron’s hand speeds up in his effort to jerk Dongho off. Dual sensations might just kill him soon enough, as would the absolute attention Aaron gives him from intense stares. 

“Aron, Aron, more,” Dongho nonsensically repeats like a mantra as he arches his back to collide with Aaron’s warm chest. 

Aaron moans back, as if he understands the desperate curve of Dongho’s spine, and quickens his pace. The hand holding an incredibly hard cock palms faster, spreading precome around messily to help Aaron jerk him off easier. Meanwhile, Aaron’s short stature doesn’t deter as he keeps thrusting between Dongho’s ass, and occasionally the sweet anticipation of a cock filling him nearly becomes tangible, but then Aaron’s hips back away. 

“Aron--” Dongho chokes out as his orgasm travels quickly through his body, settling nicely in the depths of his lower stomach. His hands wrapped around Aaron’s neck tightens their hold and pulls the older man to kiss him.

As Aaron claims his lips again, the hand not stroking Dongho’s cock trails up to comb through his messy, sweaty hair. Now, the feeling of saliva slick lips languidly brushing against his adds to the addicting feeling of a man’s grasp around his cock. With a particularly hard thrust that forces his body further up the bed, Dongho keens as the orgasm building up in the pits of his stomach forces its way into his tightening balls. 

Aaron softly murmurs, “Dongho,” and that’s all it takes for his back to bend up to the stars and the come building up to unleash in delicate arcs against his stomach. It feels so good, the pleasure still crawling through his entire being, that the unceasing strokes of Aaron’s hips that smack onto his ass and leaves his hole twitching every few seconds forces strained, aching whines to accompany the thinning trails of come oozing out of his cock.

“Hyung,” Dongho says in gasping breaths, even his voice quivering from the force of the satisfaction Aaron put him through, “please.”

With a final bite on the older man’s shoulder, he feels wetness coat the underside of his balls in several shots. Each throb of the foreigner’s cock against his clenched hole covers his skin in more sticky, warm cum, and it slowly drips down to cover his most sensitive, exposed parts. It feels so dirty as the man’s come rolls down towards his still loosened hole (probably would feel even better if it slowly dripped down his walls instead). 

Both of them settle down into a lazy hug, Dongho finding it just so funny as his muscles involuntarily twitch and send his leg spasming against Aaron’s waist. The disgusting slide of come mingling together on their skin goes unnoticed anyway, and Dongho pulls the older man into his arms as he shifts them onto their sides.

“That was good?” Aaron asks as he strokes the hair falling down Dongho’s forehead.

Dongho nods shyly and snuggles his face into the pillow. His thighs rub together slowly, spreading the sticky mess between his ass even more but also soothing the burning sweetness he feels lingering in his chest.

“Thank you, hyung,” Dongho says as he watches Aaron’s eyes slowly close. The shivering cold of the room lulls the older man to sleep as he slips a thin arm around Dongho’s waist.

Now, Dongho realizes as Aaron dozes off into the night, it felt so nice being underneath someone. He had felt so safe, so comfortable, so assured that even running away was okay. He gulps as his hand flexes around Aaron’s lax wrist. 

It felt so… _good_ to be taken care of. Giving his body, his control, over to someone even as inexperienced as Aaron was thrilling, addicting even. He could lean on this man.

The phone on his nightstand is unlocked, and he scrolls through his contacts.

_next shoot’s good to go_

**11:47 PM**

Dongho’s just about to drift off to sleep and join Aaron when his phone rings again.

_got along with him?_

**Choi Seungcheol - 12:07 AM**

The phone snaps loudly.

**_ㅋㅋ_ **

**12:10 AM**

The smooth, relaxed face of Aaron, the company’s new foreign model, is saved into his phone and ingrained in the palm of his hand as he slides a hand down a smooth cheek. His eyes close once again, and he is finally allowed to slip off, thighs slick with dried come, chest full of an indescribable, palpitating feeling that resonates with a firm, guiding hand of Kwak Aaron.

* * *

The weekend spent on top of Dongho’s sheets, probably soaked to the frame in sweat, lube, and saliva, forced an ache in his bones as soon as the next day rolled along. Aaron’s slim body was already gone, and only the indent of a man’s narrow shoulders was left right next to his outstretched body. He missed the warmth, of course, and the soothing face of the kind older man, but it was shooting day, and it would only need to be evening when he could see Aaron again.

His day was spent restless from the moment the sun climbed in through his shutters until it dropped back down and darkened his room. Only then did he drive all the way to the hotel and reach all the way up top to the room stamped on his keycard.

When he enters the room, Seungcheol comes at him gratefully and ushers him to the dressing room. A smoothing of a sweet smelling lotion sticks lightly against his thighs while his cheeks are touched up, made to look like a flustered boy on his first night, so innocent and pure.

Dongho’s glad he reached out to Aaron before the shoot, even more grateful to Woozi who suggested the preparation. When he steps into the dark room, where not a single spotlight lights up the set, it’s with confident steps that he trails to the large center bed.

When Aaron follows at his heels, playfully grabbing onto an outstretched ankle and pulling Dongho down to nose at his lips, he simply closes his eyes and lets the older man lead. The robe slips off of his shoulders an inch at a time, down freshly scrubbed skin that smells and feels like rich honey as Aaron caresses him.

They feel so sexy together, now, so unlike the fumbling pair they were when Aaron stepped a foot into Dongho’s apartment. Aaron’s hand, while not an expert just yet, knows where to touch, where to press to bring out pretty lines of a curved spine. 

With only a trail of low red lights lining the canopy of the bed, Woozi watches as his most inexperienced actors play under the low night sky beautifully. He gestures the camera to step in closer, a daring move that aims to capture the indent Aaron’s fingers dig into Dongho’s thighs. Up on the monitor, the sight could make anyone salivate for more, make them beg for longer peeks of honey skin and a gold necklace that dangles as the top leans down to bite down on his lover’s lips. Even he, the seasoned director that's been in the industry for more than five years, shifts in his seat when Aaron presses careful fingers into Dongho as if they’ve been doing it for at least ten.

When lubed fingers enter him slowly, at a pace that forces him to feel every knuckle that slides deep, Dongho throws his head back and taunts the camera with just the column of his shiny neck. He moans low, deep, and deliberate, and he gives everyone a fucking show.

Seungcheol was right, for once, when the shoot turned out so well that Dongho had to pull the older man in for seconds after the cameras shut off.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one is a big, gigantic doozy and we all agree we love right? 
> 
> say right. or else. this is my lady we're talking about


	3. It wasn't just a nickname - Baekho was the public name he went by, the one Jonghyun gave him when they were kids that somehow stuck throughout the years, and just like love, it had a way of following Dongho everywhere until he chose to embrace it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ver. 3/4: Hwang Minhyun, “Emperor”
> 
> SPECIAL EDITION
> 
> “Are You Lost, Majesty?”
> 
> $34.99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mins writing short notes challenge: failed.  
> mins writing a short nsfw for baekmin challenge: also failed. miserably. LOL.
> 
> this one's for my blue heart, who always believed i'd be able to baekmin one day but also supported every time i didn't ;; thank you for everything doesn't quite cover my feels but you alr know what im trying to say bcs that's how we roll hahaha. 
> 
> and ofc to trustmeallnight, who (rightfully) calls me out for my sappy notes at maybe??? inappropriate?? times oerkgoerkgeor. anyway you said i could do whatever i wanted LMAO. well..i did it. with all your wonderful cheering and patience along the way, this is the result. fingers crossed you like it.

It’s a little frustrating how nervous he still gets before a big shoot. Worse when it’s with a partner he’s never met. _Breathe, it’s just work_ , he tells himself as he walks into the studio, seeing a round of familiar faces greeting him. 

“Hey Baekho, you’re early.” One of the directors, Woozi, greets him with a brief wave.

“My room ready?” Dongho asks, glancing around the bustling set.

In twenty minutes it will be transformed into a beautifully lit chamber, golden details reminiscent of a late Baroque church, only the altar here is the wisp-ridden four-poster bed and, as Dongho fists his hoodie collar to tug it away from his constricting throat, _I’m the sacrifice._

“Yeah, Hoshi’s got your costume all set up.” 

Dongho nods, eyes following the vague direction Woozi waves him to. He wanders down the wide corridor between the busy stagehands, all their hands full of opulent fabrics and luxurious decorations, barely managing to avoid tripping over the long cords of lights and endless reams of black cables. Each door he passes has temporary signs tacked up but he continues on until he spots the familiar chicken-scratch of ‘ _Baekho’_ scrawled in his own handwriting. Dongho reaches for the doorknob of his dressing room, pauses on the brass.

The room next to his has a neatly written sign pinned up in handwriting he doesn’t recognise.

The name, however, he’s all too familiar with.

_Hwang Minhyun_.

He almost wants to scoff. Unlike most others in their profession, Minhyun has never had a stage name - nicknames, yes (and Dongho hates to admit that most of them are very accurate and incredibly descriptive), but never anything that could replace the name his parents likely regretted giving him. Son of a pair of musical theatre legends, Hwang Minhyun had probably been expected to follow in their footsteps. He could have made it in that industry, Dongho thinks, judging from the little snippets he’s seen in Minhyun’s films of the other singing and in that one OST he contributed to. But for whatever reason, Minhyun had chosen to debut in an entirely different sector to his prestigious university compatriots. 

Dongho’s fingertips linger at the curve of the doorknob, hesitating.

“Oh it’s unlocked.” one of the stagehands says to him. “Dino set it up for you already.”

The doorknob jolts in Dongho’s grip and he smiles at her, giving a quiet thanks as he slips into his designated room.

He’s never been the kind of guy who needs a lot of stuff to get ready before a performance. All the things he needs have already been placed in strategic spots according to his preference. Water bottles and a small fruit bowl are stacked neatly beside the vanity settee, the mirror reflecting the flashing green dot of light from the bluetooth speaker awaiting his ‘in the zone’ playlist. In the corner, his costume hangs over the back of a chair beside the makeup artist’s tidy work station. As he closes the door behind him, the rattle of the coathanger alerts him to the white dressing robe hanging on it. Dongho drops his backpack near the vanity and begins to peel off his layers. 

His mind is far from being in the present, with thoughts trailing like each slip of clothing he drops to puddle on the floor. Dongho flicks through his phone at the same time, thumbing through to sync up his playlist while attempting to kick off his jeans. _Hwang Minhyun_. The name circles in his head. How he’d dropped his phone when Seungcheol called and told him the news,

“ _He requested to work with you for this one. Wouldn’t take anyone else.”_

“ _You’re joking.”_ Dongho had scoffed once he grabbed his iphone by the headphones cord, unsettled by the way his heart flipped at the idea that Hwang Minhyun _wouldn’t take anyone else but_ him, even if he knew that wasn’t how Seungcheol had meant it.

“ _I’m serious. His manager called me, Woozi too. He wants you, Dongho. What do I tell them?”_

He knows Seungcheol was being considerate after the whole Aron fiasco, but a part of him wonders why the _fuck_ he’d been eager to put Dongho’s ass on the line for some newbie foreigner but was acting like Dongho was a virgin princess to be safeguarded when _Hwang Minhyun_ asked for him. 

Dongho loves his manager, he really does, he’s a sweet guy, kindest in the business. So it’s gentle when he had given his reply,

“ _Fuck it, I’m in.”_

But now that the day has finally come, he’s not sure he’s ready. 

Dongho had read through the script and the director’s notes last night to settle his nerves. He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel with this one; already being in the submissive role was a departure from his usual work and it felt like Woozi and the team were deliberately pushing him (maybe Seungcheol too - Dongho hasn’t made up his mind on what his manager’s motives were) out of his comfort zone. 

The zone is where he needs to be now. 

As Dongho sinks into his seat, enjoying the softness of his dressing robe curling around the nape of his neck, he shuts his eyes and focusses on the music thumping quietly through the speakers, casting his mind away and dives deep to access the space he needs to be ready to face the world outside and the work that awaits. 

Takes a deep breath, in, out, and reaches up to work his fingertips under the lapel of his own robe. Years ago he used to hate the feeling of his own body - he'd felt too soft, without more than the vague hint of a bump of collar or hipbone rising above the pillowy fleshiness of his sweaty skin. Even sitting left him painfully aware of his own size, the curves of his flattened thighs encased by armrests while the insides of his biceps would catch against the slight bulge of his waistline. 

Dongho had always felt 'big’; even as his lids slowly open to see himself in his reflection - the ridges and valleys of his defined abdominal muscles stretched languidly as his relaxed legs, fingers skimming over the flat planes and hooking in the dip of his navel - he sees imperfections. From the misspelled ink travelling across his chest, to the faint stripes of stretchmarks (' _tiger stripes’_ , Jonghyun used to call them, brushing his lips over them affectionately when Dongho would try to turn away, ‘ _means you’re a survivor, king of the jungle.’_ and would bite down lightly to make him laugh before Dongho could argue) at his now narrow waist, Dongho knows he _looks_ different but somehow he doesn’t feel any different. 

He still feels like he’s on display even when it’s only him in the dressing room - just the music, the mirror, and the careful trail of his fingers down to cup himself between his legs, raised heel balancing lazily on the edge of the vanity. Dongho lets out a soft breath, pulse thudding quicker as he traces around the outline of his soft member over his underwear. His touch is careful, hesitant as he’d been to enter his own dressing room twenty minutes ago, and he revels in the short, teasing bliss of knowing that he will know exactly where to touch when he’s ready- 

and practically yells when there’s an unexpected knock at the door.

“Just a sec!” He manages, fastening his robe tighter around himself as he stumbles out of his chair. Runs a hand through his hair, checking over at his reflection. His cheeks are flushed, breathing just a little unsteady, but he looks decent enough. “Come in.”

Maybe ‘decent’ isn’t sufficient, he thinks, as the door opens just enough to allow his co-star to slip through. Dongho’s heard about Minhyun, watched him perform in dozens of films, hell he’s even downloaded that one official soundtrack the other sang on (it’s nice to relax to, helps him unwind after a long day), but they have never met until now.

Impossibly, Minhyun is _more_ beautiful in real life. 

The first thing that pops into Dongho’s mind when their eyes meet is, _some people get all the luck_.

The second complete thought he has outside of _(holyshitfuckwowwhatfuck_ ) while Minhyun gracefully wanders inside, long limbs covered by a matching white robe like heavy snowfall blanketing a leafless branch, is _today I’m the lucky one_. 

(he has no idea that across the room, the man approaching him is thinking the same thoughts.)

“Hi.” Minhyun’s smile is subtle.

“Hey.” Dongho finds his hands clasping the front of his robe, twisting it nervously, like he’s never met a celebrity before, like he hasn’t already seen everything that is under the matching white robe Minhyun wears from countless movies and slow motion gifs saved on his phone in a hidden folder.

Ok, so maybe he had a bit of a crush. 

A professional crush. 

He never thought he would be standing in the same room as someone like Hwang Minhyun but here he was, in presence of the Emperor himself.

An Emperor who had _asked_ for him, and him alone. 

It’s a tiny boost to Dongho’s confidence. Minhyun is standing in his dressing room wearing nothing but a robe too, and it’s because he _wants_ to be here.

Then Dongho remembers what is going to happen - possibly now, definitely later - and all the nerves come flooding back.

  
  
  


Hwang Minhyun appears perfectly at ease. He looks over the room with interest. His fox-like eyes scan the fruit bowl, the speaker, the chair, the couch, taking it in as he approaches the vanity mirror. Minhyun tilts his chin, an experimental angle to admire himself in the crisp reflection and Dongho can’t help but bite back laughter. 

The sound seems to grab Minhyun’s attention back onto Dongho. He almost wishes he hadn’t made a sound. The moment their eyes meet, Dongho feels his internal temperature begin to spike dangerously. 

“I thought I’d come over to say hi. You’re getting ready, right?” Minhyun’s glance slides over the room again, carefully trailing up to the patch of skin visible where the robe had slipped off Dongho’s shoulder.

Feeling the gaze, Dongho tugs it back up. The cloth catches a few stray beads of sweat suddenly gathering, pushing it against his neck. “Ah, yeah.” 

“Me too.” Minhyun’s smile grows a little wider. “I thought maybe we could get ready together.”

Whatever breath Dongho had been inhaling is abandoned, suspended somewhere between the last thought in his head ( _fuck_ ) and the quickly dying distance between him and Minhyun as other wanders around to the vanity. 

“Sure..” The moment he says it, he wishes he didn’t. This was going to be awkward as hell; he’s not used to getting ready as a bottom.

Sure he’d done all the messy prep at home already and stuck to the recommended diet (such a pain, really). But at least with Aron, neither of them had been incredibly experienced so as mortifying as it was, it wasn’t as bad as this was going to be. 

Minhyun was not like Aron-hyung at all. He was experienced. Very. The thought needles at Dongho more than it should, a thousand little pinpricks dotting his memories of the broad back now within an arm’s reach of him covered in delicate scratches; marks from desperate fingernails of many of the same colleagues Dongho himself had fucked. _Mine will be there too,_ he thinks, feeling more sweat gathering. 

The idea is too far from the fantasies he had entertained. Those were full of long milky-white limbs spilling over his shoulders, Minhyun’s high pitched whines mixing with Dongho’s grunts as effortlessly as their intertwined hands and connected bodies. Never in his dreams ( _ok maybe once in the wildest, and did that count really because it was just the one time and all Dongho remembered when he woke up with stained sheets was the image of a serene smile above him and Minhyun gently kissing the tip of his nose; he’d known he’d been bottoming in the dream from how he winced on reflex when he sat up, except there was no pain at all, just an emptiness longing to be filled)_ did he think he was going to be Hwang Minhyun’s bottom.

But when Minhyun stills at the vanity, fingers stroking over the blinking speaker, humming along with the descending notes of Xia’s vocals in _Midnight Show_ , and glances at Dongho with a small smile, it hits. 

Dongho’s knees beg him to let them kiss the ground in front of his colleague.

“I love this song.” Minhyun says, hand travelling from the speaker to the small bottle of lubricant beside it.

Dongho’s eyes stray to follow the movement. He tenses when Minhyun’s fingers wrap around the lid loosely, every muscle on pause except for the useless one hammering blood away from all but the one extremity in his body. 

“Yeah.” He mumbles. “Same.”

“I’ve got it on my playlist too, it’s a good one for the mood.” Minhyun continues to talk comfortably, bottle in hand as he approaches.

Instinct tells him that he shouldn’t step back; they’re professionals, colleagues, they’ve both done this so often. It wasn’t as if Dongho was a stranger to helping a filming partner get ready before a shoot. It had helped with Aron, and he wished he’d done so with Ren if only that it meant he would have been more comfortable when the cameras were rolling (in hindsight, he thinks maybe it meant they'd have noticed the script error and the roles would have corrected; but deep down Dongho didn’t regret it, except perhaps that he wished when he’d been thrashing on the bed, plug buried deep inside his shuddering body, it hadn’t sounded _quite_ so pathetic when he’d begged for Ren’s touch).

But it feels different. It feels like he should step back and look away instead of craning his head up to maintain eye contact as Minhyun stops in front of him.

It’s been a long time since someone’s had this kind of effect on him. 

Not since Jonghyun, if he’s being honest.

Dongho stands his ground. He looks up. Keeps looking. Stops breathing when Minhyun’s empty hand rises to the collar of Dongho’s robe and, as carefully as unlacing bandages from a wounded limb, pushes it open with the back of his pale knuckles tracing kisses over Dongho’s skin. Minhyun’s expression is serene, wearing a smile Dongho’s never seen captured on film but so familiar somehow ( _deja vu_ he realises, and the memory of that one dream makes his whole body burn). The taller man is so confident and ready to touch it’s mildly irritating. His hand continues to wind down over the outer side of Dongho’s bicep to nudge the sleeve free as he asks,

“Want to get started?”

Dongho wonders for a moment if anyone has ever told Hwang Minhyun ‘no’. Judging by the way the smile on his face drops into a gape when Dongho grabs his wandering hand and steps back—

“Slow down, we don’t even know each other.”

—and how Minhyun’s halting laughter explodes the moment he sees Dongho’s teasing grin, it’s clearly a rare occurrence.

“I didn’t know you were such a romantic.” Minhyun comments, letting Dongho’s hand twine with his own as he’s led to the couch. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Without any resistance from the latter, Dongho pushes Minhyun down before straddling his lap.

It’s not without satisfaction that he sees Minhyun has to look up at him to maintain eye contact, but it’s a short-lived victory because the hand snaking to the nape of his neck drags Dongho in close. 

For a second, all Dongho sees are Minhyun’s eyes. They’re dark, framed by a platinum fringe, and they twinkle with Dongho’s own reflection. 

Dongho blinks, shuts his eyes when Minhyun kisses him.

The tips of their noses brush, lips colliding in a fit that is comfortable, almost too familiar, like somehow all of Dongho’s wet dreams about the tall man underneath him had been premonitions to give him guidance for the day it would come true.

In the back of his mind he’s aware that they don’t have a lot of time to prepare before the shoot. They weren’t the only crew using this studio today either. They don’t have time to make out like a pair of excited honeymooners who had been waiting for their nuptials to take the final leap; Dongho knows this. He knows Minhyun does too.

But Minhyun’s fingers tangling in the longer hairs at the back of his head, the surging buck of his hips upward to rut against the curve of Dongho’s ass, emphasising the increasing hardness of his cock, makes it very clear that his colleague doesn't give a fuck about how much time they have left.

And if it hadn't been sign enough of how eager he was, had Dongho's eyes been open as he felt Minhyun's tongue probing between his lips to tangle with his own, he might have noticed-

"Mn.." Dongho groans, deep and throaty against Minhyun's lips. It becomes a gasp when two hands grab at either of his buttcheeks and parts them.

His eyes flutter open, only to find Minhyun is still looking at him with his penetrating stare, like he never closed his eyes even once...

-like he didn't want to miss a single second of the sight of Dongho above him, grinding his wide hips down on Minhyun's cock eagerly, the thinnest of their remaining layers stretched to their limits keeping them apart. 

"Minhyun-"

"Yeah?" Minhyun's hands continue to massage, flexing over the plush roundness of the ass he's been waiting years for, the heat of Dongho's skin felt easily through the underwear confining him. During the stuttering pause Dongho has when Minhyun deliberately teases the tip of his dick over the barrier of underwear, he grins, "What's wrong - too fast again?"

Instead of answering with words, Dongho grunts and smashes the cocky smile off Minhyun's big head with a kiss. They part, with Dongho kissing along Minhyun's temple to his jaw, which moves too much for his liking because Minhyun talks again. Warm air tickles his earlobe as Minhyun mutters,

"-want me to tell you something romantic? Is that it?"

"Fuck..." Dongho shivers, bites down on Minhyun's pale shoulder where the robe has fallen away. The hands on his ass have moved to his thighs and Minhyun's fingers push up the hems of Dongho's boxers, bunching them right up to the creased ridges of his hipbones.

It's constricting, suffocating for Dongho's erection weeping against taut cloth. He might have been more embarrassed for how hard he was already were it not for the insistent pressure of Minhyun's cock seeking ascention into the heaven of Dongho's heat.

"What do you want me to say? Hm?" Minhyun's honey vocals resonate differently when they're right in Dongho's ear and accompanied by a touch on his cock that isn't his own hand. "That I've watched all your films? That I thought about it being me on top of you so long I called your manager the _second_ I heard you were finally bottoming?"

Even hearing the chuckle - it's better, warmer, more real, but Dongho grins against the hickey he's left at Minhyun's neck because it's the breathy groan that sounds best of all when his hand slips between them. Under the pesky waistband Minhyun is still wearing, Dongho's hand sneaks past and his fingers fist the big dick teasing him - and Minhyun's cock, too.

"Aahh," Minhyun's hips buck up instantly to encourage friction, head rolling back against the cushion. His hands rub at Dongho's bared thighs in an erratic rhythm, eyelids fluttering. Panting, his smile is there for Dongho to kiss, and Dongho does until the words that Minhyun attempts at are broken, "I thought- you were-"

"I am.” Dongho says, because whatever Minhyun thinks he is, he is. Ready, wanting, desperate, romantic, dirty, he’s all of that, and so much more than what his colleague could ever know from watching a few of his films - and he knows right now he’s seeing a side of Minhyun very few did outside of what scripts made him do.

“Ok-,“ Minhyun lifts his head, following Dongho’s lips as they both manage to stand. “Me too-” Neither of them are particularly graceful, teeth colliding in their wet kiss as they fumble to push each other’s layers off without coming apart. The second the air hits his bare skin, Dongho sags in relief. He tries to lean against Minhyun for support and more touches, except the taller man moves away.

“Eh?” Dongho glances down in surprise. His hand is grabbed and automatically he balances his weight on the point of contact as Minhyun crouches down, gingerly assisting Dongho to step out of his boxers. Over his forearm, he has slung Dongho’s robe and his own before they could touch the floor. “Huh?” 

“Dusty.” Minhyun says, tossing their clothes onto the back of the chair.

“Are you serious?” Dongho chuckles. “Minhyun, fucking isn’t really very clean either, you know-”

He couldn’t think of an activity that was much messier, honestly, but he’d be lying if he didn’t find it endearing to see Minhyun’s startled blinks before he laughed too and squeezed his hand.

“I know baby,” The smile fades to a burning smoulder as Minhyun moves closer. Suddenly Dongho is very aware that the air so cool around his naked skin becomes heated under Minhyun’s gaze. “Get on your knees and I’ll make you filthy for me.”

This time, Dongho listens. His heart and his dick are both full of anticipation as he kneels atop the couch cushions, joints digging into the soft fabric. Spotting the abandoned bottle Minhyun had left there during their makeout session, Dongho reaches for it.

“I’ve got the-”

He gasps, hips automatically rising in invitation as Minhyun kneels behind him, a warm palm resting on the dip of his tailbone. Dongho hangs his head, ears pink as he curses himself for acting like a veteran bottom desperate for dick.

Minhyun curses too, softly, barely audible over the quiet music. Why, Dongho isn’t really sure, but he’s not ready to try and look at his colleague until he regains some of his composure and dignity. He lasts two seconds before the hand on his back is joined by another at his front.

“Aah!” Dongho bites his lip, the skin on skin touch he’d been longing for finally enveloping his cock.

“You really are sensitive, aren’t you?” Minhyun comments. His thumb lazily strokes over Dongo’s wet slit, smearing precome over the head. The slick feeling isn’t enough, not as wet and dirty as Dongho knows he can be, _wants_ to be for Minhyun but it’s good all the same and he rotates his hips to urge more touches from him. “I thought you were just a good actor.” 

“I c-can’t be both?” Dongho snipes but his frown falters when Minhyun’s other hand slips down from his tailbone, following the symmetrical line splitting two perfectly round cheeks. The pad of Minhyun’s index finger draws a stripe over Dongho’s skin, every muscle in his body trembling when his tight hole is circled, balls tightening at the touch to his perineum. For a moment Dongho is torn, his hips wavering between fucking into Minhyun’s hand on his cock or fucking himself onto the hand stroking his puckered entrance even when he’s not prepared.

“You can, I just didn’t want to get my hopes up.” Minhyun leans over him, the hand on Dongho’s cock urging him to lean back and rest the curve of his ass against Minhyun’s steady thighs temporarily. His other hand takes the bottle from Dongho’s clenched fist. 

It’s comforting and comfortable, the way their bodies slot together. In the brief moment Dongho’s awareness is in everything - how Minhyun’s long legs feel against his thighs, the hard cock gently splitting his asscheeks, the heat of his broad chest covering Dongho’s as they breathe in time laboured and heavy, and as he rolls his head back against Minhyun’s shoulder, looking up at him and waiting for the kiss dangling at the edge of reddened lips. 

He’s never felt as beautiful as when his ex-boyfriend used to look at him with wide, longing eyes. The way Minhyun swoops in and kisses him breathless as though he could do nothing else, Dongho feels might have been a close second. He just wishes he knew why, when he was with the man of his many late night fantasies, yet he kept thinking of—

“Kneel, baby, let’s get you ready for me.” Minhyun nudges him forward with a teasing thrust.

Dongho complies, elbows digging into the cushions. He hears the crinkle of foil and the drip of liquid, all sounds usually accompanying his own hands when he has helped colleagues in the past and that’s when it really hits him that _it’s happening, Hwang Minhyun is going to fuck me_ and if he weren’t so nervous then he might have laughed. Dongho has confidence in leading. He’s built a career on it over the past two years, but he’s still far from used to the feeling of a slippery finger tracing his entrance as confidently as though Minhyun has already explored every inch of Dongho’s body countless times instead of only having met today. With thoughts full of 'next time', Dongho backs up, teasing for more.

“Mnh, Minhyun hurry up.” Dongho’s attempt at moving is halted by Minhyun’s other hand steadying his hip.

“In a second.” 

“We don’t have a second, what are you even— _ohh.”_ Like a butterfly’s wings, Dongho’s lashes quiver as one long finger pushes through the tight ring of his hole, joined by the slick wetness of more lubricant squeezed between his asscheeks. His back arches, ass lifting. 

“ _Fuck,”_ Minhyun groans, “I’ve been wanting to do this since I subscribed to your Baekh05 channel.”

Dongho shifts on the couch, trying to throw his head back to look over his shoulder. It’s been _years_ since he’s thought about that old account. An innocent cam boy and now a well-known pornstar, he recalls the tiny bedroom and the shoddy recording setup he’d had scrapped together, eventually getting more sophisticated the more patrons he-

“W-wait! You subbed-- ahh- to me?” Dongho drops his head the moment he catches a glimpse of Minhyun’s little smile. 

“Mhm.” Minhyun tilts his head to the side as if trying to recall something, or maybe he’s simply admiring Dongho’s ass from another angle; Dongho can’t tell, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I was platinum for a while there. Til you shut it down, actually.”

“That means-,” Dongho’s eyes widen, only to squeeze shut as Minhyun’s fingers press upwards. His entire body shudders in pleasure, a moan slipping out that carries with it all his horror at realising that if Minhyun was telling the truth, then that means they’ve chatted before in private messages, that he’s been on display for him and only him before and this wasn’t their first meeting.

“What was- your username?”

“Same one I use for everything, probably. Guess.” Minhyun gently twists his plastic-wrapped fingers, other hand applying more lubricant over the base of his knuckles. They squelch as he presses in deeper, and Dongho bites out a plea,

“Minhyun I can’t think when you’re-,”

“Optimus.” Minhyun chuckles. His fingers dig deeper, carefully scissoring Dongho’s muscles and adds another digit.

Dongho’s thoughts are a mess with Minhyun’s teasing fingers being so good but far from enough, but he wishes he could remember something about the username. Strains his mind like he does his glutes when he feels Minhyun’s other hand stroking between his thighs. He did a lot of private sessions towards the end of his camming career but _Optimus_ doesn’t stand out as anything unusual until it hits him: a long, shuddering wave of pleasure that has him hiding his face against his knuckles. 

“M-Minhyun..?” Dongho’s cheek smears against his hand as he attempts to look at the taller man.

In the low light, Minhyun’s features are blurry, or maybe it’s the sweat and tears, Dongho’s not sure what fogs up his eyes more, but it’s hard to believe that just two years ago, the one everyone in the industry knew unofficially as the Emperor used to constantly flood Dongho’s dm’s with requests to meet up so he could ‘plug that huge ass with an even bigger dick’. 

‘ _But I’m a top.._ ’ Dongho remembers typing up multiple times. _What bullshit_ , he thinks now as he vigorously nods to Minhyun’s purr asking him if he’s ready.

He almost might have thought Minhyun was the most patient man in the world - waiting more than two years before he finally was experiencing taking Dongho’s ass just like he’d bragged that he would in their chats. 

“Aahh-fuck—!” Dongho screams into the cushions, thighs faltering as Minhyun’s rams his entire length inside Dongho in a single thrust. 

Hands anchored on the sharp dips of Dongho’s hips, Minhyun barely gives him a chance to collect even a single sob back into his lungs. He fucks the air and every moan Dongho’s ever been capable of making out of him. The heat becomes almost suffocating as Minhyun leans over and hugs Dongho’s back. Dongho feels so _full_ , and, different to how it had been with Aron-hyung, Minhyun’s size, from the stretch of his huge cock splitting apart his tight walls and Minhyun's broad chest covering him, he feels _small_.

“M-minhyun-.” Dongho tries to communicate to him that he wants more, all thoughts of this only being preparation having fled his muddled mind. There’s a world outside this dressing room door but Dongho doesn’t care. As his desperate hips meet Minhyun’s thrusts, all he can think about is the soft, wet slaps of their skin and the low mutters of praise Minhyun kisses and bites against his shoulder.  
  
“You’re so tight baby, you really want my cock, don’t you?” 

It’s nothing like the fantasies Dongho used to have of them. 

"Mmm, Dongho-yah," The Minhyun of his dreams would purr, right into Dongho's ear, a playful nip at his lobe teasing him out of his already erratic rhythm.

But the reality is much messier and _so_ much better, Dongho finds, as he barely makes any intelligible sounds, saliva coating his tongue where he wishes words could be that weren't _'Minhyun, please oh god fuck me please please it's I'm nnh'_ except those are the only words he can form as Minhyun thrusts into him, filling and re-filling Dongho's greedy hole with each jerk of his hips. 

"Mmm," This Minhyun isn't in his dreams; he's real and towering right between Dongho's spread legs but he purrs exactly the same, "baby you feel amazing."

“Nnh- _you_ -,” _You feel amazing, you feel good Minhyun don’t stop_ the words tangle themselves between strings of Dongho’s moans and tears and he lifts his ass higher to say what he can’t. Minhyun hears him loud and clear, cock throbbing as he forces himself to still completely. 

“You’re gonna make me come, you’re so gorgeous like this.”

“Then come.” Dongho heaves his body back. The only muscle control he has left is to clench and he does. _Tight_. Grins when he feels Minhyun shuddering against him. Inside him. Fingertips indent red marks into tanned skin.

“Baekho we’ve got work t-” Minhyun’s voice sounds like the final drops of rain trickling from a clearing sky, and his moan when Dongho squeezes him again is the roaring thunder when the storm returns. “I _can’t_ you’re too sexy I’m gonna lose it.” 

The Emperor, Dongho’s seen, never loses anything. Hwang Minhyun does now though, forcing himself to pull out completely lest he waste the money shot before the cameras were there to capture it.

“Mmn..” Whimpering his complaint at the sudden loss, Dongho is given Minhyun’s lips in consolation as the tall blond flops down with him in his arms on the couch.  
  


As they catch their breath, Dongho feels himself aching all over, yet the warmth of the body surrounding him keeps him satisfied for now. Snuggling into Minhyun’s arms, he presses his ass against the still very hard cock of his colleague. 

“After all this,” He says all and he means all; the platinum subscription, the years monitoring Dongho’s career waiting for the role switch, the preparation and lubricant now oozing between Dongho’s ass and thighs, "you better not leave me waiting, Minhyun.”

The arms around him tighten as Minhyun laughs in his signature staccato that makes Dongho’s toes curl, “Don’t worry baby, in a few minutes you’ll be all mine again.” 

* * *

There is a reason for scripts. It allows the directors, the cameramen, the sound staff, the makeup artists, set designers, and costume department to prepare their own work and capture every moment according to their tight schedules.

Dongho's never been very good at remembering them.

It turns out Minhyun isn't either.

From what he remembers, this entire scene is supposed to be confined to the elegant bed. Set in a glorious castle of a fantasy kingdom, the dashing Prince in swan white and snowy blond is visited in his morning dreams by the fae spirit who has spent years keeping him safe and loving him from afar (' _I_ _t's the other way around, isn't it?'_ Dongho had teased Minhyun as they waited for the set to clear and filming to begin. _'Not for long.'_ Minhyun grinned, resting an arm around his shoulder.).

Instead, the waking prince's hand meant to detain the shy fae and bring him to bed, is currently pressed over Dongho's palm splayed against the fake stained glass window.

"M-my prince.." He stays in character at least - but barely, swallowing down the 'Minhyun' on his tongue still tainted with the taste of the same man.

Dongho’s skin is painted in subtle flecks of gold, his eyelids flushed with the gradient of a summer sunset, and his lips blossom pink; the same colour now stains Minhyun’s mouth. The way he ripples against Minhyun on camera is as gradual as glittering sand and his tanned body the perfect hourglass. His rounded curves buck and knead Minhyun’s hard cock to the edge of completion multiple times in the same cut, leaving the taller man panting in his ear non-stop.

“ _Beautiful_.” Minhyun’s lines are even messier. He’s already called Dongho by his stage name three times (the first time was an accident, the second time Dongho had deliberately tried to tease it out of him, and the third time Minhyun had growled it as he pinned Dongho against the false windowpane, their current predicament) and by now, Woozi has given up on trying to get him to stay in character.

“The chemistry’s good - we can edit - just keep going.” Woozi waves them to refocus on each other, when both actors stilled guiltily after another accidental blurt of the wrong line. 

“No one’s watching us for the story.” Minhyun chuckles, resuming his slow pace pushing in and out of Dongho’s slippery entrance. 

“They could be..” Dongho joins in with the laughter.

It breaks off as Minhyun’s voice echoes in his ear and the hands at his hips force Dongho’s ass roughly to accept all of him in a deep thrust. Dongho’s back arches delicately, head hitting Minhyun’s shoulder as the stroke teases him to the edge. The stars in his eyes are mimicked on the glisten of his gold-tinted skin and he sighs Minhyun’s name.

“Why would they when you look like this, angel?” Minhyun slips his hand past Dongho’s steadily dripping cock and cups him at the base in a loose massage, revelling in how even the slightest touch has the other barely able to stand. 

The camera lenses capture their transitions in high definition. In the editing room, Minhyun pulling out will be shown in slow motion, with an angled shot of Dongho’s ass emphasising how his muscles quiver at the emptiness, clear liquid catching flecks of gold glitter as they wander with gravity to kiss his ankles. A soft filter makes Minhyun falling back onto the bed graceful, a hazy dream as he rolls Dongho’s smaller body underneath his and takes his thighs to guide them around his waist.

Sound is muted, their lips move in words unheard and laughter and moans trapped in the air when Minhyun slides himself back into Dongho’s inviting heat. A microphone will catch the hitching of Dongho’s breath in one moment, Minhyun’s in the next. Another needs the enhanced overlay effect to replicate the smack of their skin, the squelch of Minhyun’s dick nesting in Dongho’s velvety insides. They have old clips of Dongho’s screams and moans for editing already but Woozi makes sure they’re getting this new set because nearly everyone in the room is rearranging themselves as they watch and listen.

Even a few crew and actors passing by the set have gathered, creating a small crowd behind the director’s chair. 

They have been attracted by the two on the bed to witness a sight never seen before: Hwang Minhyun, the aloof switch who only accepted roles where he could get away with a quick fuck in the simplest of scenarios, is now the doting fairytale prince between the powerful thighs of Kang Baekho, who up until recently was one of Pledishub’s best top-only actors, yet lays soft as rose petals underneath him. 

Minhyun’s thrusts are slow, tender, his fingers threading the sweaty locks of Dongho’s fringe away from his forehead for him. Dongho keens at each strike to his prostate, shoulders depressed into the white blankets while his hips encourage Minhyun deeper into him. Together, their voices create perfect harmony - Minhyun’s sweet names in mindless litany “ _angel, pretty baby, darling, gorgeous”_ couple with Dongho’s prayers, “ _more, deeper, please, I need you”_.

To their audience, the act they witness is lovemaking. 

But only to one man among them, does he see it for the act it is.

Kim Jonghyun knows Kang Dongho. He has seen him in love and he has seen how he acts in every film.

The Dongho under Minhyun, the one trembling and begging for more, that’s Baekho, the actor getting swept up in the moment like he always does because Jonghyun knows his ex-boyfriend is the type to get over-emotional, invest his whole heart in a scene to meld with his partner and bring out their best side.

The Dongho in his memories, the one who would light up at the smallest of touches of their unsteady hands, whose infectious grin grew flustered any time Jonghyun leaned in close or called him by that one name, amber eyes wide and unable to see anyone else - that’s his Dongho, a man wholly in love. 

Or was, until Jonghyun broke his heart.

-

Dongho is close to breaking point. Colourful spots gather behind his eyelids like tears, each breath a shudder. Inside him, Minhyun’s cock pistons quicker, confident thrusts forcing them both towards their peak.

“Min-” He tries to warn him, blunt fingernails scratching pink streaks into pale skin.

Minhyun thrusts harder, pushes Dongho’s thighs wider apart with the force of his pelvis, nose buried in the juncture between Dongho’s jaw and shoulder. It isn’t from experience or even from being a fan of his colleague’s works that Dongho is certain Minhyun is just as far gone as him. It’s how every name under the sun suddenly pours out of Minhyun’s mouth, 

“Baby- _tiger- angel- love- my kitten-”_ and Dongho flushes, moaning encouragement when Minhyun jerks and freezes in a final release, ropes of come filling Dongho’s spasming insides. Dongho is overheated, hips frantically fucking down onto Minhyun to reach his orgasm, and he’s so _goddamn close_ that he’s whining it’s happening just as Minhyun purrs, “ _Ah princess, come for me.”_

_Princess._

The spots behind Dongho’s eyes explode into stars, into tears.

A frenzy of heat, cold, nausea and pleasure take over his body, orgasm roaring down his spine like a wildfire, his jumbled thoughts the rain that extinguishes completely as he murmurs one name.

_Jonghyun-ah._

Instead a foreign prince wipes away his small tears, Minhyun up on his elbows and looking down at him when Dongho’s eyes open and it’s all so _surreal_ , it shouldn’t be like this, it shouldn’t be, that he shudders again and thrashes his head stubbornly against the pillow.

“That was intense, you alright?” Minhyun winces as he slowly pulls out, letting out a satisfied sigh.

No, he’s not, but Dongho hears the distant call by Woozi to ‘CUT! That’s a wrap people!’’, a smattering of applause from the crew and noisy cheers for the performance. Work. He’s working. This is a shoot. Shakily, Dongho nods and tries to catch his breath. It’s hard when each lungful feels like swallowing needles. 

_It’s just a stupid nickname, and Jjuya’ll never call me that again, it doesn’t matter Dongho, move the_ fuck _on_ , he tells himself but the internal voice doesn’t help.

An external one brings him out of his thoughts. 

“Baekho?” Minhyun repeats, poking at his cheek.

“Hm?”

“Still alive?” 

Dongho tries to close his legs, wincing at the sticky feeling oozing between his buttcheeks and nudges Minhyun to get off by prodding him with his knee. Minhyun rolls off to the side but keeps a thigh draped over Dongho's cum-stained navel. 

“Good,” Minhyun grins, “thought I might’ve fucked out the last of your soul with that round.”

“With that tiny thing?” Dongho grumbles, managing a teasing smile with his eyes still closed. “You wish, Minhyun.”

Minhyun’s barking laughter is accompanied by a playful shove. “You weren’t saying that when it was going in.”

“I’m a good actor, I thought we already had this conversation.” Finally, Dongho feels like he almost has the energy to open his eyes. The blankets rustle as Minhyun sits up and the noise level has exploded as the crew move around and start deconstructing the setup. One of the staff brings over robes for them before leaving to help untangle electrical cords. 

“Come on we better get up, they’re packing up for the next shoot.” Minhyun’s hand reaches for his.

“In a sec. Let me catch my breath.” Dongho is too exhausted to move. 

“If you stay there any longer, you’re going to become part of the next shoot and- oh-” 

The change in tone is what musters Dongho’s eyelids to open. Minhyun, now robed, is no longer looking at him. He’s staring across to the opposite side of the bed.

“Jonghyun doesn’t look very happy with that idea.” Minhyun continues, grinning at their surly colleague. 

He misses how Dongho’s eyes snap completely open, a quiet gasp as he flounders on the sheets to sit up. The robe sitting on the bed next to his knees can’t be thrown on fast enough and he drags it over his glitter-stained shoulders. 

Meanwhile, Minhyun continues to tease Jonghyun, “Don’t worry, I’ve got him. Though you’re missing out- Baekho’s missed his calling as a bottom all these years.”

“Hm. He seems experienced enough.” 

Dongho doesn’t know what hurts more - being spoken about like he wasn’t there, hearing Jonghyun’s cold tone, or the fact it sounds like the other is suggesting he’s been bottoming a lot longer than his actual first time with Ren, as if Jonghyun has any right to judge even if it were the case. 

It all hurts, and that’s enough to make him snort, “No, I just deal with it instead of running away.” 

Minhyun seems to sense the tension between them, Dongho gathers, by the way the tall man smirks, eyes darting between him on the bed and Jonghyun, glaring holes into Dongho’s back like doing so will make the other turn around and look at him.

“Well, we’ll be going now. Come on kitten, I’ll carry you to your room.” Minhyun offers his arms to Dongho.

“You’d drop him.” Jonghyun grinds out. “You couldn’t even lift him against the wall before.”

“I was too busy fucking him into it-” Minhyun boasts back, and Dongho is about to scream at both of them to fuck off with their dick measuring contest when thankfully, Woozi does it for him.

“What are you all still here for? Jonghyun, are you lost? Taeyong’s set is down the hall in studio 4 and it’s 7:15. Go. Minhyun, Baekho, get dressed and go home.” Woozi pauses, smiling at Dongho. “You did great, by the way. That’s the best I’ve ever seen from you.”

At the praise, Dongho flushes and fights back a smile. It’s short lived as he hears Jonghyun mutter something and start to leave. Against his better judgement he turns to catch a glimpse of his ex-boyfriend, only to meet his gaze.

Every other person in the room fades to a shadow in the back of Dongho’s mind. In a leather jacket and plain white tee and washed out jeans, Jonghyun looks good. Handsome. Perfect. It’s been nearly three years since he saw that face in the flesh - and only once onscreen afterwards six months later on a Pledishub suggested video and his heart, barely held together as it was, scattered into pieces and burned after the shock wore off. Dongho knows he doesn’t have any right to feel jealous - it’s why he never watched a single film Jonghyun has been in, even if the morbid curiosity eats at his mind - but he also doesn’t think Jonghyun has any right to look that fucking good either. 

Life, Dongho knows, is unfair. 

He wants to say something. Anything. Nothing comes out. Instead, Jonghyun calmly breaks the silence.

“Woozi’s right, Dongho. You acted well. Looked believable.” 

Then he turns around and leaves with a parting frown at the taller blond now reaching for Dongho’s hand. Minhyun sneers back, but seems to forget Jonghyun exists easily and makes a big show of helping Dongho up, insisting to keep him in his arms and carry him like a bride to his dressing room.

_I wish I could forget him as easily_ , Dongho thinks even as he feels the beat of Minhyun’s heart against his ear, barely audible over the other’s amusing chatter.

But again, Dongho thinks as prepares to go back to his empty apartment still full of mementos and memories he couldn't live without, 

_Life’s unfair._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! pls stay tuned for trustmeallnight's thrilling conclusion~~


	4. Remember me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ver. 4/4 Kim Jonghyun, "JR"
> 
> "Tell Me You Love Me"
> 
> Unavailable

_If its ok you have another shoot in about a week_

**Choi Seungcheol - 3:24 PM**

“Fuck, Seungcheol,” Dongho groans as his head flops back on the couch, hands digging into his sweats and gripping tight on the fabric before he can really try to strangle his manager through the phone. 

It’s been a week, barely a couple days once his and Minhyun’s video was premiered, and still Dongho can barely manage to click past his scrunched up, mid-orgasm face. Sure, it’d been good, and Minhyun took care of him, but he hasn’t seen the man in days and, well, it’d be a shame if this feeling of loneliness was a constant with every fuck.

So, he’s hesitant. 

_again? are you serious_

_what is it this time_

**3:41 PM**

_jr?_

_know him? the one who broke tae in couple days ago_

_not as popular as min but he still asked for you_

_i did tell you youd itd work out like this ;)_

**Choi Seungcheol - 3:46 PM**

No matter how many stickers Seungcheol wants to use to reel his stupid ass in again, it still hurts when Dongho reads it.

Kim Jonghyun. 

Quite literally, the one who got away. Rather, the one who ran away with Dongho’s broken heart clutched in his hand. 

It’d be messy, loaded, possibly a mistake Dongho will tear at his sheets over once Jonghyun finally figures out for once that Dongho just isn’t right for him. Even when Dongho’s waited day and night for a single fucking call, a text, even a _like,_ and scrolling through the mountains of JR’s videos meant he came in his hand with tears in his eyes and an underlying _need_ buried under his skin, he’s scared.

He still loves Jonghyun. And it’d hurt if he’s thrown away again.

Dongho stares up at the ceiling, watching the light buzz bright. The tiny clock on the wall ticks on and on, small jumps that tell him just how long it’s been since he’s been mindlessly looking on, pondering a decision he knows he’s made since it was given.

_so?_

**Choi Seungcheol - 3:58 PM**

_yeah_

_sure_

**3:59 PM**

* * *

  
  


When Dongho steps on set, body already bare to the staff and the large king bed, he shuffles around.

“He’ll be here soon, Baekho,” Woozi says from his chair, phone tucked in his hands and hands pointed at the stray camera situated in the corner.

“Or now.”

When Dongho turns around, Jonghyun stands there with hands in his pockets and a cap pulled over his head. Jonghyun, who still dresses in the darkest clothes that his body can possibly bear in the hot Seoul weather, is as familiar as the way Dongho steps forward, fingers curling into his thigh from just how much he wants to pull at the loose end of Jonghyun’s shirt.

“Jonghyun.”

“Dongho.”

Jonghyun smiles, fiddling with his cap and pulling it off to shake off his hair, and that’s not a porn actor anymore, that’s just the Jonghyun who would show up at Dongho’s house after his shift at the convenience store with two ramens in hand and his bike thrown across the yard in a hurry.  
  


“It’s been so long,” Dongho says as he crawls back on the bed. He swallows, an intense churning in his stomach when Jonghyun eyes the swell of his thighs that curves into his hips.

“It has,” Jonghyun breathes out once Dongho parts his legs, just a fraction of what the cameras will pick up.

* * *

“It’s been so long,” Jonghyun whispers into the shell of Dongho’s ear just as his fingers twist slowly.

It can’t be helped then, the light massage of his insides from short fingers, the crack in Jonghyun’s words as he speaks his closest thoughts. Dongho sobs, a loud, abrupt cry that forces his head back and toes to curl. His fingers come up behind Jonghyun’s back, and his blunt nails begin to sketch jagged lines down warm skin.

Somewhere out there, Minhyun and Dongho’s video floats there on the website. In clear, bright font, it’s the damned prince and the beautiful, delicate fae that slides across the homepage with its hilariously infuriating price tag.

“It’s a special feature,” Woozi had said, irritated when Jonghyun’s prodding became incessant and physical, “so it’ll be worth more. Just catch it on the site, man.”

And Jonghyun did. He refreshed the site until “the new hot collab” came out, and he wasn’t impressed. 

Sure, anyone could tell Minhyun was experienced, a _great_ actor, and Dongho, he was simply the sexiest thing to ever spread his legs on the screen. Sure, their chemistry could probably burn a hole through Jonghyun’s socks if he kept replaying the 20 second preview where Dongho begged for more with each thrust that jolted his body up the bed.

Still, he hated it. Rather, he envied it.

He couldn’t unsee himself there, hovering above his lover, pressing kisses down Dongho’s neck, fingers working him apart while his tongue finds new ink matching the ones he’s still memorised in his mind, feeling Dongho’s hands squeezing him tight just like he had back when he’d gotten those tattoos and Jonghyun was sitting next to him in the parlour, reminding him,

“This is what you wanted though, Dongho-yah. You knew it would hurt.”

It’s the same words he whispers now into Dongho’s ear as he feels his ex-boyfriend’s heat clenching around his single digit, body attempting to reject and accept all in the same flex of muscle. 

And Jonghyun’s smug, eyes narrowing until he can feel the tremble around his fingers rather than see it, and his mouth tilts up when Dongho clenches again and pulls him in. Because it’s not a stupid fantasy name Woozi made up in two seconds Jonghyun gets to call out today.

“Dongho, baby, you’re so tight around my fingers,” Jonghyun says as he screws two fingers in deep. “How’s my cock gonna fit in there, hm? You’ll be stretched right open, my poor baby.”

He lightly strokes at the wet, hot insides, a caress that plays at the cloyingly sweet tone that teases the squirming body.

Dongho’s hips roll down as he whimpers, a tiny pitched cry that travels once Jonghyun’s fingers twist, and with words that stifle themselves behind bitten fingers, says, “Fuck me and find out, Jonghyun-ah.”

With hooded eyes, Jonghyun slips his fingers out, lube squelching against a hole that deliciously tightens once it’s empty and waiting, and grabs at his own neglected cock. He jerks it twice, watches Dongho watching him, and haughtily smiles as he taps his wet length against a soft ass.

“Want it?”

Jonghyun slips up on his knees, fits right between the thighs that envelop him (quite) easily, and covers the reddened chest that pants quietly for him. 

_It’s not a fantasy,_ _Jonghyun._

Dongho, who is real and current, who was only but a small picture in his phone months ago, beams so warmly at him it’s as if they should be on their own bed right now. Jonghyun, settled calmly between parted thighs in the mornings that have sunshine scratching at their blinds, and Dongho, gripping at the sheets they should be lying on together every single night.

Ah, right, _that’s_ what Jonghyun was afraid of wanting.

Because Jonghyun broke a single heart, and what a careless mistake turned into was him pathetically chasing after someone who did so much just to forget. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he hastily whispers as he lines up. He’s impatient, has been for years, and when Dongho’s hole kisses at his length, and Jonghyun’s already had a taste of just how inviting that body is, he pushes in with just one stroke.

When they come together, with Dongho sniffling into JR’s shoulder, his body quaking from pleasure as his body tenses under the stress of Jonghyun’s immediate thrusts, it’s when Jonghyun unravels. He’d been trying to keep up a front of professionalism this whole time, always wary of what he did so long ago. It was his fucking fault they’re meeting like this, with cameras zooming down their bodies without mercy, and a debauched Dongho crying small tears from just how long it’s been since he’s felt Jonghyun’s skin under his hands.

But somewhere along the lines, the border he’d drawn in the sand is knocked over by the waves of Dongho’s sweat-slicked body rippling desperately against his, by the waterfall in golden eyes that springs free once Jonghyun fucks slow and deep into him.

Needy, desperate, depraved, it’s all embedded in the way Jonghyun beats into Dongho like he has a sole purpose. To beg for forgiveness, perhaps, or as he dips down and kisses at a bared neck, to take back what he was offered.

When Jonghyun looks up from the comforting dark space of Dongho’s soft neck, and sweat drips down his hair to roll down his temples and eyes, he barely sees the slow shake of Woozi’s head. The director’s fingers curl up as well, a loose command telling Jonghyun to let up from the squirming body.

Jonghyun, who usually listened so well, who displayed all of his partners in a way that stretched their limits visually and physically, who used his broad shoulders to pull back slender arms and show off pretty mouths and chests, stares with bleary eyes, blinks twice, and curls his face back into the neck that beckons his lips back. 

This isn’t for Woozi anymore. It never was when Dongho walked into the room and spread himself bare for his lost love. The lights that shine hot sear his own sweat into the red lines running down his back, and while it burns, the hiss from his mouth quiet when folded into Dongho’s neck, he keeps dropping his weight down.

Someone on the set snaps lightly, and there’s tapping on the bed. It’s not even a distraction to Jonghyun.

“Jonghyun-ah,” Dongho cries as his legs are wrapped around Jonghyun’s waist. His ankles lock tight behind such a strong back, and his arms spread out to grip at shoulders that heave heavily from the pace. 

Hearing Dongho cry for him, Jonghyun’s name for once a beautiful call that has since come back to him, he shuts his eyes and presses a sloppy kiss against a stiff tendon. When Dongho’s neck opens up, a golden column of smooth honey craning upwards to let Jonghyun past, he accepts it, charges in with red lips that ache to mark.

When Jonghyun’s lips attach to salty skin, licking away at the taste of a desperate, crying man that holds him close, Dongho arches high up into the touch. The stick of the sheets to Dongho’s back separates as he arches a cat’s stretch, bringing his body up to meet with Jonghyun’s. His bare chest, flexing stomach, untouched, drooling cock kisses the hard muscle of Jonghyun’s own chest, his wall of a body that shields Dongho’s messy self from detached eyes.

“Jonghyun, Jonghyun-ah, _please,”_ Dongho begs. It’s not specific, he realizes as his blurred eyes filled with unshed tears blink open and take in the dark brown of Jonghyun’s bouncing hair. He’d take anything from Jonghyun, if he just gave and allowed it, a merciful command that would rip at Dongho’s seams.

“Please?” Jonghyun asks, seemingly knowing yet curious all at once. 

His puffy lips, now parted and satisfied in the red petals he left stained on Dongho’s neck, now open wide to breathe heavily as his hips continue to chase at the heavy ball of lava bubbling deep in his stomach. Watching Dongho squirm and reach up to his body, though, it makes him hotter than the lights that carefully watch them. 

“Tell me, princess,” he says.

A deep, delicious, shuddering groan rips deep from Dongho’s chest as Jonghyun whispers their dear pet name with a rumble that settles deep in his stomach. 

It’s not the soft, fond _princess_ that was called when Jonghyun would wake up from his post gaming nap, hair messy and eyes barely open, arms reaching out to loosely wrap around Dongho’s waist. It’s not even the teasing reach of Jonghyun’s fingers against Dongho’s ribs as they rolled around on Jonghyun’s parents’ couch, giggling at each other’s antics.

This _princess,_ this tone that vibrates low in Jonghyun’s chest, burns at Dongho’s stomach, makes him feel so good that he shuts his eyes and whimpers his approval.

“Want you so much,” Dongho whimpers. “Only you.”

No wandering, unfamiliar caresses that lit up a trail of sweet sugar against his skin, and while Dongho enjoyed it all, it’s the slow brush of Jonghyun’s hand against his cock that feels best. It urges the lava in his stomach to churn in waves, and for once he wants to ask Jonghyun if he feels it too, the overwhelming heat that rivals all that he’s ever known.

Their orgasms build in a slow wave this time, as slow as the pace Jonghyun puts Dongho through with each heavy drop. It’s not the explosive, fireworks-like display that coats panting stomachs with cum, meant only for viewing eyes to shoot wide and lonely fans to drool over their open wallets. This time, Dongho can feel every inch of his skin thrum with pleasure in a slow crawl.

“Jonghyun,” he pants, hips rolling down, chasing the crest of bliss that winds down from a slow scrape against his prostate, “I’m coming.”

Jonghyun, aware of the tense eyes on his back, drops his elbows down until his arms can wind around an arched back. He holds tight, buries his sweating face in a caved collarbone, and groans.

“Me too, princess.”

When Dongho clenches tight around him, throat whimpering delicately and Jonghyun’s name stuck in the long swell of the cry, Jonghyun breaks and comes. His fingers dig into the small waist, pressing so hard red marks turn into indents, his face shoots up to nose at an outstretched neck, and his hips stutter repeatedly as he fucks as deep as he can.

“Oh _fuck,_ princess, _fuck,_ ” Jonghyun groans, deep and bellowing, as his body falters. The feeling of Dongho desperately clinging onto his arms, holding onto him as a lifeline, furrows his eyebrows and has him cutting off stifled sobs. 

“I love you,” Dongho cries out as each thrust covers his insides with hot cum, the feeling of being so full and dripping suddenly too much for his chest. 

It’s all a culmination of all of their years, rather. The pants that they share through open mouths, the wet slide of lube and sweat against skin, the overwhelming feeling of letting go so slowly under the weak yet careful eyes of the only one he’s ever loved, it brings the words he’s wanted to say for years to his lover’s ears.

Jonghyun’s eyes widen even as his cock dribbles weak shots of cum into the leaking hole, and when it gets too sensitive to keep mindlessly sliding into trembling insides, he slides out in a careful pull and drops down. 

“I love you too,” Jonghyun shakily replies as Dongho lies limp, his own soft cock lying motionless under the pool of his own release on his stomach. 

Jonghyun takes Dongho’s hands in his, slipping fingers between long, weak ones, and rests them against the bed.

“I love you so much,” Jonghyun whispers as Dongho’s eyes tiredly blink up towards him, wet in the eyelashes as he faces Jonghyun. “Have loved you since we met. My princess.”

Dongho’s nose scrunches, his limbs weighing down as he takes in the words that soak nicely into his skin. His hole, messy and dripping with thick globs of Jonghyun’s cum, clenches pleasantly as the man swipes a finger through the mess.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Jonghyun quietly says as he feels around Dongho’s warm skin, rubbing fingertips along sweaty thighs, past sensitive balls, and along a flat stomach.

Dongho simply flings heavy arms around Jonghyun’s neck, pulling him down and breathing in the heady scent of sweat and sex.

* * *

“You guys know there _was_ a script, right?” Woozi hops down from the director’s chair, thin lips set into a small grin as he grabs at the towel hanging from the hook on the wall. The cameras are set down on stray chairs, and the monitor is fiddled with as the producer prods through the scenes.

Dongho’s thrown the fluffy towel, and he quickly hides himself. 

“You knew,” he mutters with a mouth covered by warm fabric. Arms wrapped around his waist tightens as well, covering infinitely better than Woozi’s most expensive towel.

“Knew what? You’d confess right in the middle of my shoot?” Woozi scoffs before patting Seungcheol on the chest and stalking towards the cameras. 

“Still put on a great show,” Jonghyun rumbles from the bed, arms lazily resting on a soft stomach and mouth pursing puckered lips at Dongho’s pinked face.

As they lie there, and Woozi watches frantic movements on screen, Jonghyun pokes at an arm and smugly grins up. Dongho slings his own arm over Jonghyun’s shoulders, flopping down heavily on a weak body and laughing at the wheezing groans.

“We really did,” Dongho whispers as he rests his head on a bare shoulder.

“Damn right you did,” Woozi mutters as his eyes travel along the gorgeously captured limbs vivid on the monitor. “Fuck, this is good.”

The multiple heads in the room nod quietly, Seungcheol staring on with wide eyes as, once again, Jonghyun whispers the promises he keeps into an open ear. 

Jonghyun laughs, pushing breaths that rock against Dongho’s head ever so slightly, and he curls up into the sound. The sweat cooling down on his body, the come staining the sheets and their joined legs, it’s forgotten as Dongho lies there and listens to a regular heartbeat work diligently.

The set quiets down once Woozi accepts the scenes, and everyone starts to wander around as they pack up or leave. Even Seungcheol, nosy, always caring for Dongho Seungcheol, glances at them and wordlessly walks to the back room to gather his stuff. People clammer around them, low buzzing talk kept to a simmer, and they watch nothing but each other as the last bang of the doors empty out the rented room.

And there they are now, two bare bodies melting into each other’s warmth under the low light of the hotel’s electric sign.

“Did you really mean it?” Dongho asks as Jonghyun lazily blinks his eyes to a tired, slow night.

They lie on their sides now, their arms pillowing each other’s heads, and there’s nowhere to turn from the burning hope that finally shows up on Dongho’s open face. Always so expressive, even when Jonghyun can feel the slowed weight of his chest breathing softly in exhaustion.

“During the shoot?”

Dongho huffs.

“Well, yeah.”

“Just thought we were asking stupid questions,” Jonghyun says as he leans in. “Of course I meant it.” He closes his eyes, places a small kiss on the button tip of Dongho’s nose, and lands a heavier one on the lips that softened under his touch.

They part, a slick separation that dusts pink on their warm cheeks, and Dongho reaches up to stroke at the wetness staining Jonghyun’s lip.

“You love me?” Dongho asks. A final question that only serves to stroke at his purring ego.

“Always have.”

Dongho smiles. A feeling so warm, not quite as scorching and painful as the sun on the days where he missed the young boy who would kiss at his scraped knuckles, but rather a light wisp of a fire that Jonghyun gently stokes with his grown in cheekbones and broad shoulders rests deep in his chest. 

Dongho loves Kim Jonghyun so much it’s almost insane.

“And I always will,” he replies, and his forehead taps against Jonghyun’s.

* * *

“You know, I’m really sad to see you leave,” Seungcheol says as he sips at the sweetened coffee. He places the cup down again, leans forward, and takes Dongho’s hand in his. “I’ll miss you.”

“Me or the commission?” 

“Yah,” Seongcheol whines as Dongho giggles and shakes his hand around like a rag toy. “I’m serious. You were my best client. And my friend.”

“It’ll be fine,” Dongho says, voice softer as he tightens his own fingers around Seungcheol’s hand. “We’ll still talk.”

“Promise?” 

Dongho sighs, still feeling foolish for the hundredth time when the prevalent pout juts out and his chest clenches at how much he’ll miss his idiot of a manager.

“Promise.”

When Dongho’s phone buzzes, a quick three note chime that interrupts Seungcheol in the middle of his story about the new actor, he grows ten times fonder.

_i may have messed up the bed frame_

_but dont worry_

**Kim Jonghyun - 11:24 AM**

“Jonghyun?” Seungcheol asks.

“Yeah.”

“Should’ve known,” he replies, sulking and eyes downcast at the melting ice cubes in his coffee, “you’re always happier when you see him.”

Dongho tuts, throwing the phone back in his pockets and standing up.

“Just invite Jihoon out for dinner already,” he says before laughing at the way Seungcheol slumps in his chair.

“Just go back to your boyfriend,” the man says, hands slowly grabbing at his wet coffee cup and sipping at it miserably. Still, Seungcheol throws him a quick wave and a giggle when Dongho drapes over his back as a goodbye.

“My boyfriend,” Dongho whispers as he jogs down the crowded street. Despite people crossing his shoulders and whisking past, his head remains downcast as his lips play at the grin that tugs sweetly at his skin.

Their apartment is just two blocks down, a small space three floors up that’s still bare and in progress, evidently by how Jonghyun can barely put their bed together. Still, it makes him happy. 

It’s theirs now.

It’s easy to climb up the flight of stairs, reaching the door at the end of the hallway that’s still shining and clean, and pulling open the doorknob that’s unfamiliar yet feels so right.

“Jonghyun-ah, I’m home,” Dongho announces to the empty apartment, and Jonghyun’s voice, exhausted, that replies back, seems so sweet even now.

  
  



End file.
